


Worth The Wait

by esuterutomoru



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, Warcraft III, World of Warcraft
Genre: F/M, Malfurion is a boytoy to her, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Tyrande is gorgeous, Wedding Fluff, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 21:27:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13349841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esuterutomoru/pseuds/esuterutomoru
Summary: Tyrande is finally officially Malfurion's wife, and she cannot wait to fulfill their marital obligations. Malfurion is clueless, but he will learn.





	Worth The Wait

**Worth the Wait**

 

Ten thousand years was absurdly long as courtship, even in night elven terms. Especially now that they were mortal, time seemed to rapidly be slipping away. Naturally, Tyrande had been beside herself - in her own regal and reserved way - that they were finally getting married with Malfurion. It had seemed to her like it was never going to happen, and yet, here they sat now, at the head of a long table in Darnassus, with their friends and family all gathered round to celebrate them. A beautiful day in the midst of chaos.

 

Tyrande was radiant as a jewel bathed in moonlight, smiling all around, pressed into Malfurion’s side. It really could not have been a better evening. Maybe if he was finally inside of her instead of chattering with Broll Bearmantle. Honestly, he could be rather infuriating with his innocence. Had he not waited for her as well? Was he not aching to finally slip away and be alone with her? Touch her, hold her, caress her? What was he thinking?

 

Tyrande could not have been less interested in the conversation if she tried, but she still made polite noises and nodded here and there, pretending she was listening. Broll went on, Malfurion responded. Then Broll asked something and lo and behold, his shan’do choked on his word.

 

Coughing once, Malfurion shot his wife a quick look. Tyrande smiled back and squeezed her fingers tighter around his cock. She could feel it pulse against her palm through his clothes. Oh, he had been waiting then. Good to know.

 

“What was that, dear?” She murmured. Her fingers moved softly, in a teasing little massage. Something subtle, but enough to get him twitching. Delicious. Her mouth watered.

 

Broll watched his teacher, expression grim and expectant. Malfurion cleared his throat again, and was able to reply without stuttering. “As I was saying… I agree that some of you must journey to the Eastern Kingdoms to help revive the land there. The Cataclysm has left the entirety of Azeroth damaged.”

 

“I am glad we are in agreement over this, shan’do,” Broll bowed in his seat. “With your leave then, I’ll assemble a group.”

 

“Surely not right now?” Tyrande cut in. She glanced between the two men. “The matter is pressing, I agree. Everything concerning the Cataclysm is pressing, of course.” While she spoke, her fingers pulled deftly on buckles, loosened straps, tugged on leather. “But today, just today, is a moment for peace, celebration, and love. I urge you to enjoy it, Archdruid.” She smiled, and slid her hand inside Malfurion’s clothes. She touched warm, hard flesh and her smile only sweetened when her husband coughed to cover a gasp. At least he was definitely enjoying himself, if the sticky drip of precum on her fingertips was any indication. “In fact, I insist.”

 

Broll was frowning, confusion evident on his face. He could see that his teacher was experiencing some sort of discomfort, but he wasn’t sure what. Tyrande was her usual regal, gracious self, despite being all cuddled up to her husband. Everything should have been alright, and yet he could tell that something wasn’t. He opened his mouth to respond, or maybe ask if something was wrong, but his shan’do gasped, and he suddenly caught the miniscule motion of Tyrande’s arm, her hand thankfully hidden beneath the table. His face turned almost black with all the blood rushing to his cheeks and it was his turn to cough.

 

“Of course, High Priestess…” He muttered, his chair screeching as he pushed it back and got up. He winced, glanced at the pair again, then shuffled away.

 

“Oh my!” Tyrande laughed, rubbing her thumb around the head of Malfurion’s cock. It was slippery with precum, very warm and deliciously hard. She has waited far too long to do this, and could barely contain herself now. “It is fair to say we were discovered, my love. My talents at subtlety might not be enough to fool your friend’s sharp eyes.”

 

Malfurion gripped the edge of the table, swallowing around a tight throat. His thighs slid apart slowly to give that wonderful hand more room. He threw his wife a despairing look and willed his voice to stop shaking when he responded. “It seems to me you wanted to be discovered, dear.”

 

“Perhaps,” Tyrande purred, pressing a chaste kiss to the tender spot just beneath his ear, while she shifted and pressed her arm in between them. Better hidden by Malfurion’s feathery ceremonial cloak, she could pick up the pace a little and stroke his entire length, up, down, squeezing, massaging. “Perhaps I merely wanted to teach someone a lesson not to ignore me any longer.”

 

Malfurion heard his own breathing growing too loud, too obvious. He shifted in his seat, clasped the table tighter, afraid he might grab onto his wife and make a scene if he didn’t anchor himself. “I was not…” His protest died down into a small, breathy whine as Tyrande pushed her hand all the way down and gripped his sack. It hurt, but not enough to feel bad. It felt good too, but there was pain, which he knew shouldn’t feel good. Confusing. His eyes watered like a little boy’s and he had to grit his teeth against a moan.

 

“You were indeed,” Tyrande said, firm as her hand, gripping his length again and stroking up, then down again, dragging the foreskin away. She could see the glistening purple crown when she glanced below the table and she smiled to herself. She would make a fine feast of that later, the moment they had a second alone together. “But no more. You will stop being innocent this very day, my dear. Even if I have to teach you everything from the very beginning, I will enjoy myself. Just try your best to keep up. I have waited long enough, don’t you agree?”

 

“Yes, I…” Malfurion found his voice again, but it was different, weak and quiet, a voice from long ago. His head was clouding, his thoughts disappearing one by one. Pleasure was building inside him, a warm squeeze in his cock, indescribable, but so good that he wanted to cry out. “I’m sorry…!” He whispered, squeezing his eyes shut, turning his head so he could hide his flushed face in her hair. He was so close, her hand still stroking, slippery and soft, moving faster. There were noises too, slick little sounds that he feared everyone could hear, despite the musicians’ efforts. He felt mortally embarrassed and crazy excited at the same time, wheezing into Tyrande’s silky hair, breathing in her flowery scent. “Please…”

 

Did he want to ask her to stop this madness or to go on and finish it? He couldn’t tell. But he suspected it didn’t quite matter what he wanted. She had wanted to stop right there and pull away, demurely wiping her hand on a napkin and even shooting young Prince Anduin a charming, motherly smile.

 

“I am feeling a little cold out here, love,” she said. There was something in her tone, something expectant. Malfurion stared at her, impeccable in her gown of starlight and moonbeams, white and bright and magnificent. He was terribly hard, and he was still leaking, chest heaving softly, full of yearning. How could she be feeling cold right now?

 

“I should find myself a shawl,” Tyrande went on. The way her eyebrow lifted sent a shiver down his spine and his cock twitched. Suddenly, he felt a little stupid.

 

“Oh,” he cleared his throat, shifted around, and stumbled to his feet. Nothing peeked out, at least. “I’ll come with you, love.”

 

She smiled, triumphant, her eyes glowing. “That would be my pleasure.”

 

He realized the unwitting double-meaning and coughed an awkward laugh, turning, offering his arm, hoping to all deities and demigods that his clothing would stay in place - at least until they left the revelry.

 

Tyrande clasped his arm and pressed her front to his side while she kissed his cheek. It was another scheme, but he couldn’t help enjoying it. Who wouldn’t enjoy the feel of soft breasts pushing against their arm? “Let’s go,” She whispered at his ear.

 

So they went. Not further than the next door that they could close, as Malfurion had anticipated. Still he did not quite expect to be pressed into said door by his wife, his leather kilt and trousers yanked down his legs, the High Priestess of Elune on her knees in front of him, beautiful lips sliding over his cock and taking him inside that snug, warm mouth without warning. He hissed, dipped his head back and grappled for something to hold onto, finding her carefully sculpted hair. When she sucked him deeper inside, his fingers pushed into the tresses, grabbed them, shoved her diamond tiara askew, but he couldn’t feel sorry. He was busy trying to breathe right and not just thrust blindly forward into the heat and squeeze of her lips.

 

She sucked, gripping the base, her cheeks hollowing in as she pushed down. Her throat protested, and she swallowed against the reflex, going on steadily. When her nose brushed the coarse dark green fur of her husband’s treasure trail, she moaned and almost smiled with her mouth full. A small glance up, she could see him struggling, felt his hands in her hair tightening and idly, she wished he would pull, so she could hiss and fight back, punish him, and defeat him in the end. Someday, perhaps. Right now, he was still worried and uncertain how to touch her. Poor Malfurion, sleeping for an eternity, never learned love. She would feel sorry for him, if she did not enjoy giving the lessons so tremendously.

 

Carefully, she curled her lips away and grazed the sensitive flesh with her teeth as she pulled away, tongue pressed to the throbbing cock. She sighed when the head popped out of her mouth and her tongue worked on cleaning it. There was spit on her lips, his taste inside, and she felt ravenous, impatient, frustrated to no ends. Why was he still holding on? How could he?

 

She rubbed her palm along the twitching shaft, caressing, smearing the moisture with quick strokes. She kissed and licked the tip, humming in the back of her throat, gazing up at him. He cracked his eyes open finally, and looked down. She felt him shiver, despite his attempt at hiding it.

 

“Oh? Do you like what you see then, dear?” She smiled, opening her mouth again, just breathing, holding his cock out of reach of her lips. He felt his hips press forward, needy, and she pulled back, just a little too far away. “Hmm? You weren’t so keen on this before. Have you changed your mind, love?”

 

Malfurion couldn’t wrap his mind around the questions she was asking. He blinked, breathed out and wiped sweat from his brows absently. “Aah… what?” He mumbled. Some of her blue hair fell into her beautiful face. He pushed the stray strands behind her long ear and caressed the cool skin. Her mean little smile softened to an almost wistful expression, and he wanted to say he loved her, but she left him no time.

 

Her mouth wrapped around his cock again, her tongue circling the crown again and again, wet and gentle and amazing. He groaned, bowing his head, eyes squeezing shut once more, his fingers pressing into the door behind him. He was panting now, chest moving rapidly, following the rhythm of her lips sliding up and down around his shaft. She sucked hard, squeezing her mouth, pulling him into her throat again, all the way. She nuzzled the hairs on his lower stomach with the tip of her nose and he sighed, shoulders sagging, when the door opened and pushed them both.

 

Panicking, Malfurion shoved back on instinct, shutting the door. Tyrande held onto his hips, blinking up at him, her lips and tongue working on his cock. He bit his lip and closed his eyes, putting his weight against the door to keep it closed. The thrill of being almost caught pulsed in his veins, made his heart beat swift and nervous against his ribcage. He could hear the people behind him, just a thin piece of wood separating them.

 

“I swear it opened for a moment, your Highness. Let me try it again.”

 

“Fine.”

 

“Oh no,” Malfurion whispered, swallowing thickly. There was no mistaking that gruff, clipped tone. Tyrande hummed and began sucking again, moving her head up and down, her hand stroking the base of the shaft. Malfurion planted his feet hard and pushed the door as the poor Stormwind soldier tried opening the way for his king. It rattled, but thankfully did not move an inch.

 

“What is it already?!” King Varian did not seem to be in a waiting mood. Then again, was he ever? Malfurion shivered, devastated at the idea of being found in this state, but bursting with excitement at the threat. Tyrande must have felt him twitch or translated the drip of fresh precum with her calculating mind, because the way she glanced up at him was positively criminal. He shook his head, gaze begging. Whatever she was planning, it was possibly not a good idea.

 

“I don’t… know, my liege. The door won’t budge. Could be it got stuck. Or someone’s blocking it from the other side.”

 

“Some joke…”

 

Varian’s voice was coming closer. His fist banged on the door. “Whoever it is on the other side, this is the King of Stormwind. You’d best not keep this up!”

 

Tyrande’s fingernails clawed along the inside of his thighs, leaving behind dark purple marks. Malfurion’s eyes widened and he bit his lips against a cry, throwing his head back so hard that it bounced off the wood. He whimpered, curling his fingers into a fist. Gods, but her mouth was wonderful. So wet, sliding smoothly up and down in a perfect pace, her tongue tickling him, cleaning away what he dripped.

 

“...who is that?!” Varian was angry now. Clearly, he was taking this mishap as an insult to his royal person. Malfurion could not be bothered to care any longer. He was too lost now, too full of pleasure and heat and want, and Tyrande was not giving him any mercy. Varian could keep yelling and banging the door for an eternity for all he cared. He was close, breathing hard, grabbing at his wife’s hair, her shoulder, the base of her ear, wordlessly begging her to keep going and never stop. Just a bit more, another suck, another perfect stroke, tugging at his senses. And then, that wonderful freefall, where everything was so good and so warm. 

 

“Haah!” His exhale bordered on a moan, long and deep, dragging out over those blissful seconds of orgasm, with Tyrande’s hungry mouth draining him dry. She swallowed hard on the first mouthful, then kept licking and sucking, cleaning him of the mess, fingertips rubbing his hips lightly.

 

His cry was possibly heard, because the banging and yelling on the other end abruptly stopped. “Oh Light…” Varian muttered, in that distinct tone of embarrassed dismay. Malfurion wondered if the King of Stormwind would note the absence of the married couple at the celebrations and put two and two together. He hoped against hope he would not. “Come along, men.”

 

Footsteps, dying away. Malfurion looked down, and Tyrande stood, picking the stray tiara from her blue locks. Her hair flowed free, down her shoulders, framing her beautiful face. Malfurion cracked an awkward, flustered smile. “You look lovely with your hair down.”

 

“Thank you, love.” Tyrande smiled, pushing at the strands, preening a little, basking in his compliment. Her eyes were gleaming and she looked devious when she answered. “You yourself look wonderful when orgasming.” She bent forward and kissed him, feather soft, fleeting. The thought of where her lips had been just seconds ago was strangely exciting. “Now, I need a shawl, don’t I?”

 

She turned and swept down the corridor, her gown flaring and billowing behind her, every bit a queen. Malfurion cleared his throat and tried to get decent. He was still fumbling with a belt by the time she returned, a shimmering light blue drape wrapped around her body. “Love? Do you need help with that?”   
  
“No. No,” Malfurion shook his head furiously. He caught her eyes and saw her leering, looking him over like a predator. He shivered and finally buckled that damn belt. “Not right now, I mean.” He smoothed his beard a little and offered his wife his arm. “If you don’t mind, I believe there is cake, and dancing. Afterwards, if you aren’t cross with me, I am happy to learn more from you.” He dipped a small bow towards her and earned a laugh.

 

“You are a diligent student, so I know I will be enjoying it,” Tyrande said, her spirits high, her cheeks flushed, already looking forward to the rest of the evening. She took his arm and again pressed her front to his side. “Believe me, I will make sure that this first night of ours was indeed worth the wait.”

 

Malfurion bent forward and snatched a small bite at her ear. He caught her blink in surprise and smiled to himself, pleased that she was pleased. “I have no doubts, my love. I can already tell I will have no peace once we are alone.”

 

“Or when we are not,” Tyrande quipped back, putting her hand on the doorknob. She paused and looked at him sideways. “Do you reckon Varian knows it was you?”   
  
“Us, you mean,” Malfurion frowned, rubbing his beard. “He can’t possibly believe I would make a noise like that without you.”

 

“Oh well,” Tyrande chuckled and opened the door. “Something for him to think about, at least. Perhaps he could do with a new queen. Or at least a concubine. A good one could suck that wolf right out of him.”

 

“You can be terrible sometimes,” Malfurion shook his head as they joined the dancers. “I do love you.”

 

Tyrande smiled, pressing closer to his chest. “And I you.”


End file.
